The Antihero
by uzumae
Summary: She was just a memory, something to be filed away in the basements of his mind, accumulating dust and age. And he was just a relic, a lost remnant of her childhood and innocence, arising from a time when she had still believed in heroes. [ OC fic ]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter I**

 _Lost opportunities,_

 _lost possibilities,_

 _feelings we can never get back._

 _That's part of what it means to be alive._

\- Haruki Murakami

* * *

Years ago, there had been a girl, Bakugo recalled.

Back when he and Deku were still restless toddlers who played "hero" games endlessly around their neighborhood, there had been a girl around their age who occasionally joined in on their thrilling adventures.

Bakugo couldn't remember her name or her address, but he sure could remember what she was like.

"Polka-dots," they called her, for every time they spotted her, maroon, purple and murky blue spots bloomed all over her pale arms and legs like ink droplets diffusing across the surface of water.

She had never been bothered by the nickname. At one point, one of the boys in Bakugo's mini-clique had mustered up enough courage to question the source of those bruises.

"I'm really clumsy," she would reply, a small smile adorning her delicate lips.

Delicate.

That's what Bakugo thought whenever they played with her.

Weak.

And everyone knew that Bakugo _despised_ those who were weak.

His distaste towards her was something that Bakugo was obviously unafraid to show. In fact, it had been demonstrated very openly and frequently during their outings together. But the weak, delicate girl never seemed to care. All she wanted was to continue to play with them.

Bakugo could never forget the face of the persistent weakling.

The straight black hair that contrasted her pallid skin, an easy target for pulling and yanking. The tattered clothes and sandals she always wore, perfect for mocking her with. The patient, unbothered expression that was permanently etched into her face, a constant source of frustration.

Deku had been far too shy to actually interact with the girl. Bakugo noticed whenever Deku's curious, wide, green eyes would dart across at her direction before dashing towards a different line of sight when she returned the gaze and made eye contact. Although he didn't blame him much – there was something unnerving about the girl.

Perhaps it was because they didn't know that much about her. She had appeared one day in their neighborhood like a ghost out of thin air. No one knew exactly where she lived except that it was within their neighborhood, and no one had ever seen her mother or father pick her up from their usual playground.

Perhaps it was her sharp, light gray eyes, always observing, always analyzing. Bakugo remembered that she had been a key player in hero roleplaying games that required strategy and planning. That had been the main reason the boys tolerated her anyway.

Whatever it was that made her stand out, it ultimately didn't manner.

Only several months after she had waltzed into their daily playtimes, the ghostly girl had vanished just as abruptly as she had appeared. There had been no forewarning or declaration prior to her sudden disappearance, only a faint memory of a promise to play again together another time.

Bakugo went home the night that they began to notice the girl's absence and asked his parents about it.

"You know her?" his mother had asked him, an incredulous look on her face.

"I'm not friends with her or anything," Bakugo grunted, "She's annoying and weak, but a little smart. We used her for hero games. But she hasn't been coming to the playground anymore."

His mother and father shared a look that he was not yet able to comprehend. A second passed as his mother was silent, contemplating her next words as a small frown unknowingly crawled onto her youthful face.

"We don't know much about her family," his mother admitted, "They had moved here only recently, but we did hear that their family is going through some… financial struggles. They left a few days ago to move to a different place."

And that was the end of it.

Bakugo didn't ask what his mother had meant by financial struggles. Even as a toddler, he was clever, he always had been. Thus, he dropped the topic and trudged to his room to finish his homework dutifully.

'Polka-dots' had inserted herself into Bakugo's childhood for a few, brief months before she was suddenly plucked right out of it. As a child who had spent the entirety of his currently short life in the same neighborhood, recognizing every face he passed, moving to an entirely different area in such a short amount of time seemed like a far-away occurrence to him.

Where could she be?

Where did her bruises come from?

Had her strategy skills improved?

Was he smarter than her now?

Those were questions he would never be able to receive answers to anymore, but he ignored that. Someday, he would become the number one hero, and some weak, irritating girl who happened to had been a little smart back when they were kids would be the least of his concerns.

She was just a memory, something to be filed away in the basements of his mind, accumulating dust and age.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia. Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter II**

" _Imagine that the world is made out of love._

 _Now imagine that it isn't._

 _Imagine a story, not of good against evil,_

 _but of need against need against need,_

 _where everyone is at cross-purposes and everyone is to blame_."

 _-_ Richard Siken

* * *

Years ago, there had been a boy, Haruka recalled.

Back when she had still aspired to become a professional hero, her struggling and deranged family had moved to a nice, normal-looking neighborhood where she met a young blonde boy who led a posse of all the other neighborhood boys, all sharing a single, identical goal.

To become a hero.

The boy was fiery, explosive, ruthless and unkind. He constantly wore black t-shirts with skull pictures on them, a reminder of his fearless and tough nature. If she reached back into the depths of her mind, she could pull out the memory of his name and she allowed it to roll onto her tongue.

Bakugo Katsuki.

A natural-born leader.

It's true that the boys had never been particularly kind towards her, especially Bakugo, but it didn't matter to her. There was something magnetic about him that constantly made her want to sneak out of her creaking, shabby home to play "hero" with him and his followers at the nearby playground.

Perhaps it was his strength. Bakugo had already manifested his quirk by the time Haruka had met him and the boy was explosive not only in nature, but in the literal sense as well. Every obstacle they encountered on their heroic expeditions around the neighborhood would always be torn down by him alone.

Perhaps it was his unwavering determination. Bakugo expressed his desire to become the number one hero like no other person Haruka had ever seen. Every day, Bakugo had his mind focused on one thing – victory. And it was this steadfast strength and willpower that allowed Haruka to forget.

It allowed her to forget the sharp stench of alcohol that permeated their home whenever her father came home, stumbling and aggravated. It allowed her to forget the pain that she felt whenever her father would raise his hand against her, creating brand new bruises across her skin, painting them with throbbing polka-dots. It allowed her to forget the ache that stabbed her heart when she had peeked into her mother's room one night and watched as she sobbed and crumpled to the floor, desiring nothing more than to escape this wretched family.

Most importantly, it allowed her to spark a flame within her – the desire to become a hero. To become someone that could save people like her mother from people like her father.

She watched as all the boys displayed their quirks and created silly hero names, all except for one, timid, green-haired boy she hadn't been able to talk much with. Her own quirk had already manifested too, but out of embarrassment from the fact that all the other boys were already so determined to become heroes while she had only discovered this aspiration very recently, she chose to keep it a secret.

But just like everything else in her life, nothing good ever lasted.

Not long after they had moved in, Haruka was ripped away from her "hero" games and her explosive comrade when her family finances plummeted and they were forced to relocate. Debts and other words she had not yet understood absorbed her family as her father attempted to explore a variety of career paths to increase financial support. And her dream to become a hero gently flickered away until the flame was extinguished.

She had hoped that she would be able to rekindle the dying embers of her dream, but such hopes were trampled upon the moment that her abusive, two-faced father made the morning news as a new, mediocre pro-hero who had managed to save a young girl from a criminal.

Of course, she had initially thought this was good news, regardless of the fact that she was disgusted by how her father acted like the perfect gentleman in front of the media, holding a young girl her age so protectively in his arms in a way that Haruka herself had never experienced. But the seeds of greed had already planted itself in her father's mind, and heroism, fame and media attention allowed it to bloom.

Indeed, for Haruka Haiiro, heroism was dead.

Heroism died along with her childish ignorance on the day that she saw her father step out their cracked and groaning apartment door, a wide smile on his face as he left her and her mother with nothing but debts and betrayal.

Heroism died when she viewed her pro-hero father on TV, gloating at the fame he received while he publicized his new relationship with a younger, wealthier female celebrity. To him, her and her mother were nothing more than deadweight he had long abandoned. A forgotten part of his past, their existence had already been erased by him in the media.

Heroism died as she witnessed her mother's fragile body decay by weakness and illness, driven to the bone with fatigue and overwork in order to support her. Meanwhile, society accepted her father as a pro-hero, congratulating him for his achievements and admiring his _new_ family.

This was not the hero she aspired to become.

But it was the hero that society had accepted. And she loathed it.

On some rare days, she would think back to Bakugo, the young boy with wild, blonde hair whose resolve to become the number one hero she envied. On such days, she would feel a pull on her heart – not because she was reminded of what she had wanted to be, but because she was reminded of what she _could_ have been but can no longer truly be.

He was just a relic, a lost remnant of her childhood and innocence, arising from a time when she had still believed in heroes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia.**

 **Also, a special thank you to Nickname-chan, Rynxenvy, nehmeh, bbymojo and Yuiitsu muni for your wonderful reviews! It means so much to me that you all read my story and take the time to kindly review.**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)**

 **Warning: Descriptions of past domestic abuse and violence**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter III**

" _Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?_

 _No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine,_

 _making the green one red_."

\- Shakespeare, Macbeth

Act II, Scene II

* * *

The light tapping of her fingers. The lingering sounds of idle chat fading into the background. The rustle of leaves from outside the window. Haruka opened one gray eye that shifted lazily to the clock at the center of her middle school classroom.

Around her, her ears picked up sounds of her classmates packing up for the end of the day. She could feel a persistent stare from one of the girls directed towards her back. A gentle sigh escaped her lips and she turned around, offering an innocent smile towards the offender, who jumped out of her skin and immediately whirled out of sight.

Haruka the distant.

Although that was never what they explicitly called her, she could infer that was how the rest of her classmates thought of her. To the other boys and girls of her middle school, Haruka was solely defined by her academic achievements, abilities with her quirk and the unusual distance she placed between herself and others.

She seems like a nice girl, they would say, hesitant smiles plastered on their faces. She always has a soft smile, they would add. Delicate, charming and serene. Those were generally the words associated with her – until they witnessed her utilize her quirk. On the training field, Haruka was ruthless and agile, constantly and critically analyzing possible movements.

"Vector Control," the doctors dubbed her quirk.

Essentially, it was the ability to control and alter the direction and magnitude of anything around her. It could be the direction and magnitude of the air around her, of a bullet, or even of gravity. With careful precision and mental calculations, she could also manipulate force vectors in order to drastically amplify the strength and speed of her movements. Of course, such a widely applicable ability did not come without repercussions. Often times, after strenuous use, the mental pressure would be exhaustive, inducing migraines and nosebleeds.

Even so, the phantom pains that haunted the areas where her father used to drunkenly hit her, and the betrayal she felt at her father's gloating face on the hero news – it all helped to numb the pain that came with using her quirk. Haruka morphed the ache in her chest into sheer drive and pushed herself to the limits of her abilities. She found that there was not much that could compete with emotional burdens when it came to motivating oneself to train.

However, there was another reason for her proficiency with her quirk and why she was ahead of her classmates. A reason she hoped would never meet the light of day.

"Haruka Haiiro," the familiar red tuft of her homeroom teacher's hair poked through the door as he gained Haruka's attention, "Can you come to the teachers' office? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Pensive gazes rested on her form as the classmates who had been packing up were now focused on wondering why she would be called to the teacher's office.

"Sure."

The simple reply left Haruka's lips with her usual soft-spoken tone as she gathered her things and followed after the teacher, away from her curious classmates.

"Please take a seat," her teacher instructed once they arrived at the teachers' office. Haruka could tell from the passing glances other teachers had given her that they were all aware of the hidden reason behind why she had been called.

"As you know, you are in your third year of middle school and next year you will be entering high school," he began, "Like all the students in your year, you should be thinking of potential high schools you want to apply to and what career you want to enter into."

A pause.

At this point, the mug on her teacher's desk, decorated with a picture of his dog, seemed much more interesting than the words actually leaving his mouth.

"But we want to give you a special offer," at this, Haruka's eyes snapped up.

"You are an exceptional student, Haruka. In the history of our small and inconspicuous school, you are the most remarkable student we have ever taught. Your precise control over your quirk and your aptitude for strategy makes you stand out among your fellow peers," her teacher's eyes glowed with pride as he continued to speak, "That is precisely why we've written references for you."

"References?" Haruka repeated in confusion, "What for?"

"What for?" her teacher echoed, laughing, "To recommend you to U.A. High School, of course!"

Haruka's heart stopped in her chest.

"I…" she faltered, "I can't afford to go to U.A."

"Not to worry," her teacher beamed, "We were concerned that the reason why you didn't write down U.A. as a potential high school to apply to was due to financial reasons, so we already checked for you. It turns out that U.A.'s recommendation program offers a full conditional scholarship if you can maintain high academic performance."

Frozen in her seat, she remained silent.

"The best part is that they've already accepted the references we submitted! If you choose to accept, the recommendation entrance exam will be coming up soon, but of course there wouldn't be a reason for you to turn down such an offer, right?"

The question slapped her in the face.

"But –" she began.

"You _do_ want to become a hero, right, Haruka?" all of the sudden, the hopeful look in her teacher's eyes seemed frightening to her and she could feel her palms begin to sweat.

 _No. I don't want to become a hero. I_ _ **can't**_ _become a hero. Not anymore._

Her mouth opened slightly as her reply repeated itself in her mind like a broken record. But the words died on her lips, failing to voice themselves.

"Y-yeah…" she felt bile rise up her throat in disgust at the mere implications of her shaky reply.

"Wonderful," the adult grinned and handed her a sheet of paper, "Please have your guardian fill this permission form out in order to qualify for the recommendation entrance exam. I'm sure your parents will be so proud of your achievements."

"Thank you, sir," Haruka clutched the paper tightly and said goodbye with a hesitant smile before she plunged the paper into her school bag and left the office.

As she passed her middle school's gates and walked along the pavement, her school bag and the permission form inside it unexpectedly felt much heavier than before.

Especially when she reminded herself of where she was headed.

* * *

Sometimes, on rare nights, Haruka would close her eyes and think of the time before her father had abandoned them. Most prominently, her mind would wander to her mother back then. How her frail hands had trembled while she washed the dishes – an ingrained habit after years of abuse. How her voice became hoarse after crying whenever her father did unspeakable things to her mother. How her eyes had aged far beyond her years but remained gentle and affectionate whenever they looked at Haruka.

It was memories of her mother that helped to calm her heart whenever she went on her jobs. A clear reminder of her purpose. And as she opened her eyes and emerged from her memories, her mind would be focused, prepared and uncontested.

Today was one of those nights. As Haruka opened her eyes, she traded thoughts regarding U.A. recommendation exams for thoughts of her mother, struggling to meet their everyday needs, and clenched her gloved fists.

"Target is in sight," she muttered into her earpiece.

"You know what to do, kiddo," a gruff voice replied.

Haruka's piercing, ghostly eyes followed the man in the suit several meters below her as he stepped into a seedy office building, three sleazy-looking bodyguards behind him.

"Don't call me that," she retorted, keeping her gaze focused on the men and adjusting the silver-haired wig on her head that obscured her true appearance.

The man in the earpiece stayed silent in response.

Haruka narrowed her eyes, meticulously gauging the height, weight and physical capabilities of each of the men from their silhouettes on the window of the building. The bodyguards would go first and then the target.

Taking a step back, she steeled herself. Once again, she closed her eyes, breathed in and listened as she felt her breath against the cold, hard interior of the mask that covered her face. And when she finally opened her eyes, she lost herself in the identity of her mask.

Bending her knees, Haruka propelled herself off the rooftop, manipulating the vector of the force of her jump by redirecting it towards the window and increasing its magnitude, allowing her speed to far exceed that of a normal human's. She felt the glass shatter on her boot before she heard it, along with the panicked shouts of the men who were now in front of her.

"Shit! Cover the boss!" one of them screamed.

Haruka didn't waste any time. She kicked her leg out, swiped it against the legs of the target in front of her and pushed his fallen body behind her. Once he was down, the first bullet flew through the air.

It was heading straight towards her forehead, except suddenly, it wasn't. Instead, it was now lodged in the chest of one of the bodyguards. The man choked, droplets of blood dotting the floor.

The others were quick to react, but Haruka was faster. The window had been broken open from her entry and surrounding outside winds began to enter the room. Before any of the other two bodyguards could reach her, she re-vectored the winds to produce extremely high velocity winds and then let the winds slam their bodies against the walls and shatter the furniture around them.

Once she heard the crack of their necks, she turned around to the target, who trembled below her.

"Stop! Please!" he cried out, "I-I'll give you anything! I g-got drugs and cash in a bag over there! Please-"

Haruka took one look at him, adjusted the vector of force that her feet applied to the floor, and watched as a simple step became all it took to crush the target's skull. The job was done.

For a moment, Haruka's thoughts relapsed back to her teacher's question and the U.A. recommendations. Her significant control over her quirk did not come from pure training alone. Unbeknownst to her teacher, she had some practice exploring the full applications of her quirk as she carried out her jobs and fought opponents.

 _You_ _**do**_ _want to become a hero, don't you? Don't you, Haruka?_

A familiar head of wild blonde hair flashed through her mind. Childish laughter, scraped knees and silly hero names echoed in her memories, seeming far more distant than she had remembered them to be.

Her detached gaze fell upon her target's body as it began to cool above a growing pool of blood. Hauntingly, the pool grew larger until she could make out a vague reflection of her own masked face staring down at the body in the blood.

She wondered, why is it that her own face began to scare her?

But Haruka knew the answer to that question.

It was because when she looked into her reflection, she was able to see how far she had fallen from the days when she had dreamed of becoming a hero. How much she had changed.

Before her thoughts could distract her further, Haruka quickly escaped from the scene, dashing through floors and alleyways at inhuman speeds.

After a few moments, she slowed down and found herself at the correct, shabby alley, facing the intermediary she had been contacting via earpiece.

"Great job, kid," the man grinned, eyes glimmering behind dark sunglasses and cigarette smoke slithering from his lips.

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"Fine, fine," he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit, "Great job, _Artemis_."

This was the system that underground crime businesses had in place. An employer would contact a group of intermediaries or middle-men who regularly managed a group of freelance hitmen. Most hitmen would conceal their identities using codenames. Thus, the employer would pay the intermediary for a hit, who would receive some of the profit, while the rest of the money would go to the hitman.

"I've got to say," he began, "you're really young for getting involved in this line of work, and you're a newbie too. But for someone who's only started recently with this kind of stuff, you do your job real good."

"I don't care," Haruka's voice was no longer soft-spoken and delicate, but unsympathetic and cold, "I'm only doing this type of shit work for the money. Transfer the money to the account immediately."

The man cackled, loud and shrill, like something she would often hear in old thriller movies.

"Don't you worry. The money will be sent in soon," he waved his right hand as goodbye, and Haruka took note of the fact that he was missing a pinky and ring finger, "I'll let you know if I get another offer."

Not wanting to be left in the dark alley by herself any longer, Haruka turned around and walked away, clenching her fists.

* * *

By the time Haruka had arrived in front of the door to her small, run-down apartment, she had removed her mask and wig, changed back into her school uniform and wiped off any blood on her. There wasn't a single trace left of the assassin she had been only a while ago.

It was well into the night and the rest of the apartment building was peacefully hushed. Gradually, Haruka's mother opened the door at the sound of the doorbell and visibly brightened at the sight of her beloved daughter.

"I'm home," Haruka smiled – a true, genuine smile. People always used to say that she had received her delicate looks from her mother's elegant, gentle appearance.

"Welcome back, dear," the tired lines around her mother's eyes wrinkled as she smiled back, "Come in quickly and do take a shower, you smell awful."

Trudging into the apartment, Haruka let out a chuckle, but paused abruptly when she noticed the papers on the table of their living room. Her mother was quick to follow her line of sight.

"Haiiro, it's okay. It's just-"

"That man..." she glared heatedly at the papers, "He still has debts he wants to dump onto us? After everything he did?"

Her mother soothingly caressed her arm, "It's okay. I can take care of it, and you recently got a part-time job, right? We'll get through this."

The pair was silent for a while.

"I just wish your part-time job wasn't so late at night," her mother commented, "Look at you. You must be tired from school and now you just got back from your job too."

A guilty expression wore down Haruka's face. There was no way she could ever tell her mother the truth of her job and what she did.

"It's alright, Mom. I want to help you out, I really do."

Her mother's concern softened, "Alright. Don't forget to focus on your schoolwork too."

"About that," Haruka started to speak as she pulled out the permission form from deep within her school bag, showing it to her mother, "my school recommended me to U.A. High School and they accepted the recommendation. They want me to take the recommendation entrance exam soon."

A gasp escaped her mother's lips and she stared at Haruka in amazement, "That's – That's wonderful! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

Seeing her mother's reaction, disappointment flooded Haruka's emotions and she tried her best to suppress it from showing on her face. But she was too late.

"What's wrong, Haiiro? Don't you want to become a hero?"

Almost as if she had been stabbed, Haruka cringed painfully at the similarity between her mother's words and her teacher's earlier question.

"I don't really want to become a professional hero, Mom."

"…You don't?"

"No, it's just-" Haruka let out a frustrated sigh and ran her hand through her ebony-colored hair, " _That_ man turned out to be a professional hero too, and there are so many issues with the current hero society that I don't even want to begin to get into right now. I just can't."

"Haiiro," her mother tenderly removed her hand from her hair and held it with calloused fingers, "I know that it's difficult for you too. But you becoming a pro-hero is probably our best way out of our struggles. Think about it. The stable income. The reputable name. The welfare benefits."

The teen didn't reply and simply allowed her mother to hold her hand. A few inky strands slipped from her shoulder, veiling a part of her face.

"I'll sign the permission form for you, so will you please at least think about it?" her mother lightly took the permission form out of her hands and kissed her forehead.

"Yes, Mom."

Haruka's eyes continued to follow the paper that was held in her mother's hands even as her mother walked away.

Later on, after she had showered, changed and completed her homework, Haruka lay on her thin, drab mattress, staring up at the ceiling within the darkness. Regardless of what she did, her thoughts would constantly return to the question that had been repeatedly directed at her.

 _Don't you want to become a hero, Haruka?_

Unquestionably, Haruka despised heroism. She loathed how society glorified heroes like gods; she loathed how the whole industry was fueled by media popularity and public appearances; and she loathed how heroism conveniently divided everything into good and evil, as if they could simply sweep the terrible things some heroes have done under the rug merely because heroes were supposed to be the ultimate exemplification of what was socially 'good'.

Good against evil. Heroes against villains.

Did such clear opposites truly exist?

As a child, she had embraced and admired it without much thought. But after everything she had witnessed and experienced, she began to realize certain aspects regarding the hero society.

Heroism took the world and cut it up into two pretty little pieces – good and evil. Glorifying heroes as the 'good' in society allowed people to turn a blind eye towards heroes' flaws and wrongdoings, precisely like what they had done with her father. Labelling villains as the ultimate 'evil' dehumanized them, allowing people to forget that villains were human too.

Haruka didn't want to support a hero society like this one.

But then again, she thought back to the image of the corpse beneath her and the reflection of her masked face in the pool of blood. Was that truly the life she wanted to lead? Was that the person she wanted to be?

Grunting, she shifted slightly to her side and pulled out her phone to distract herself. If she couldn't sleep, she at least didn't want to keep pondering about that particular issue.

Nevertheless, as she opened up the daily hero news on her phone, one specific headline caught her eye. As she read it, her eyes widened in disbelief.

There on her phone screen was a picture of a young boy her age, wearing a black middle school uniform and adorning the same wild blonde hair and venomous red eyes she had always recalled from her memories. Except this time, his eyes were weary and his uniform was stained and untidy.

"Fearless middle-school boy survives Sludge-Villain attack!" the main headline read.

He was older, taller and somehow more intimidating than before, but it was still him. And Haruka could never forget someone with a personality and drive like his regardless of how much time had passed since her days in that neighborhood. Undoubtedly, she recognized him.

Bakugo Katsuki.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia.**

 **A special thank you to bbymojo and** **Blackenflames for your encouraging reviews! Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and showed support as well**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter IV**

" _Justice is subject to dispute; might is easily recognised and is not disputed._

 _So we cannot give might to justice, because might has gainsaid justice,_

 _and has declared that it is she herself who is just._

 _And thus being unable to make what is just strong, we have made what is strong just."_

\- Blaise Pascal

* * *

Perched on a small stool, Haruka stared at the permission form that lay idly in the middle of her study desk, hoping that if she glared at it for long enough, yesterday's events would simply fade out of existence. It would be as if her teacher never recommended her to U.A. and her mother never signed the paper.

"Haiiro!" she heard her mother's muffled voice, "You should leave soon or else you'll be late to school."

Haruka's gaze shifted languidly to the morning sky, visible from her window, before turning back to the paper in front of her.

Without moving her attention away from the paper, she opened her mouth to reply, "In a moment, Mom."

Her mind drifted back to the article she read last night. She had been so transfixed on it that she ended up falling asleep with her phone in front of her face, still open to the article's webpage.

It turned out that the article had been a day old already. As expected, the boy from the villain attack had indeed been Bakugo, and the article described how he heroically fought tooth and nail for his survival against the villain with his "outstanding" quirk, or at least that had been what the reporter labelled it.

The article mentioned something else that was intriguing to her. Before All Might had stepped in, a frail-looking, green-haired boy had been calling out to Bakugo and then recklessly attempted to save him. Haruka took one glance at that section of the article and knew immediately who it was referring to.

Deku.

It must had been him. She recalled how he had been fragile and timid as a child as well as how she never had the opportunity to interact much with him. But more than anyone else in her short-lived group of childhood friends, she suspected that Deku had the greatest drive within him to come to the rescue of others – the heart of someone who always wanted to help.

Haruka stifled a laugh. She wondered how Bakugo must have reacted to a rescue-attempt by none other than Deku.

As her state of mind returned to the present, the words on the permission form in front of her came into view and she pondered about Bakugo and Deku. They must be well on their way in achieving their ambitions to become genuine heroes. Unlike her, of course.

"Haiiro?" her mom called out once again, this time with slightly more urgency than before.

True, Haruka hated heroism.

But it was also true that she loved her mother. And she loved her mother more than she hated heroism.

And so, the young girl stood up, gripped the signed permission form, shoved it into her school bag and opened the door.

"I know, Mom, I'll be on my way to school now," she smiled, tidying her skirt neatly as she emerged from her bedroom.

Her mother passed her lunch box to her, wearing an old apron on top of her clothes and an aged expression on her soft features, "Have you decided? About the U.A. recommendation?"

"Yeah, I think I have."

Haruka knew her mother's silence was meant to urge her to continue.

 _Think about it. The stable income. The reputable name. The welfare benefits…_

The words her mother spoke to her last night resonated in her mind and she straightened herself.

"I'll accept the U.A. recommendation and take the exam. For us. So, uh, I guess that also means I'll try to become a pro-hero if I can," Haruka's voice wavered and she paused for a moment, "… I'll try to help people out."

"You made the right choice, dear," her mother smiled and raised a hand to smooth out her daughter's hair, which was as black as charcoal and as identical as her own hair, "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Mom," her light gray eyes shifted away from her mother, avoiding eye contact as she twisted around towards the apartment door, "I'll be going now."

"Have a good day at school!"

As Haruka stepped out the door and began her walk to school, she took a moment to briefly stare down at her own hands - hands which have killed and hurt out of her own selfish desperation for provision instead of help and save. Tracing the lines in her palms with her eyes, she decided that someone like her could never be redeemed.

Even if she tried her best to get accepted into U.A., become a pro-hero and maybe even garner enough power to reform certain aspects of the hero system for the better, she was well aware of the fact that she was in deep waters for the things she had already committed.

But maybe for a while she could pretend. For her mother and for herself, maybe she could pretend that she could become the hero her father never was; the hero that could amend the flaws within the hero system that she detested; the hero that 6-year-old Haruka had wanted to be.

As she passed her usual, long and distant route to her middle school, she pulled out the permission form from her bag gently this time. Her eyes lingered on her mother's signature for a while before it trickled down to the U.A. logo at the bottom and the two phrases that was always associated with that school.

Go beyond.

Plus ultra.

Maybe she, too, could go beyond her past and become someone who wasn't always limited by memories of things that had occurred long ago –-

"Oof!"

As Haruka's breath was knocked out of her in the middle of her deeply immersive thoughts, she realized that someone had bumped into her.

Out of reflective instinct, she pulled the person's collar, twisted her body around and slammed the person into the ground, fearing that it was an attacker or an upset client from work.

When she had realized that it was indeed not an attacker or an upset client from work, she was far too late and the young boy was already writhing on the ground in pain.

"Oh, dear," Haruka muttered absentmindedly to herself, self-reflective thoughts now completely departed from her mind, before kneeling on the ground next to him, "I'm so sorry for what I did. I mistook you for someone else."

The boy's sweat tainted his plain, white shirt that had a single word on it and his unruly, green hair spilled out around his head on the pavement. It didn't take long for Haruka to eventually recognize the skinny boy beneath her even after all those years, and the wide, forest-green eyes that opened in terror at the abrupt attack only confirmed her spontaneous identification.

"Deku?" her usual, soft-spoken voice squeaked a pitch higher at the surprise encounter.

The boy's mouth gaped open for a split second like a fish in the water before he suddenly bolted upright and took several steps away from her. Haruka watched with slight amusement as the emotions in his eyes turned from fear to bewilderment to recognition to utter disbelief.

"Y-You're-" Deku choked in the midst of his frantic stuttering, taking a moment to swallow and compose himself, "…Polka-dots?"

Haruka's eyes glowed like shimmering pebbles at the familiar childhood nickname, "You remember me."

"Yeah, s-sort of," he seemed to release some of his earlier tension, taking a step closer and scratching his blushing cheek, "You _are_ her, right?"

Standing up, Haruka grinned softly and noted that she was still slightly taller than him. To her confusion, as she took a step closer as well, Deku took a step away from her, but she chose to ignore it for now.

"Yes, it _is_ me," she confirmed, "It's been so long. How have you been?"

Deku's cheeks continued to burn and he refused to meet her eyes, "I-I've been doing well, thank you."

Strange. Has he never talked to a girl before?

"What are you doing here? I always take this route to school and I've never seen you around until today," Haruka asked.

"I'm, uh," Deku hesitated and uttered the next word a little quieter, "training."

"Training?"

"Yeah," he smiled a little more brightly this time, "I'm planning on applying to U.A. High School and taking the entrance exams several months from now. I've got to train really hard and I've started running in this area to increase my endurance."

Clutching the U.A. permission form in her hand tighter, Haruka moved it so that it would be behind her back, hidden from Deku's view, "That's amazing, Deku."

"T-T-Thank you!" he clenched his eyes shut as he replied bashfully, "I don't even know if I'll get in, but I'm going to try my best no matter what."

Haruka glanced at the boy in front of her, who looked exhausted and sweaty but altogether determined, and marveled at how he must have grown from the timid kid in her memories, especially when considering the fact that he jumped in front of a villain to save Bakugo only two days ago.

"Good luck," she encouraged sincerely, "I believe that you can do it. After all, I remember that you and Bakugo have always looked up to All Might even when we were kids."

"Yeah, I still do," Deku replied and something in his eyes made it seem like he was reliving a treasured memory in his mind.

"I suppose that means that you finally got your quirk, right?"

"I-I did! Well, kind of," he had responded far too hurriedly than what Haruka had expected, but she brushed it off.

"I've got to get going now," Haruka patted the dust of her skirt and waved goodbye at Deku, "It was nice to see you again after all these years, especially since I didn't get to talk to you much when we were kids. Maybe we'll meet again someday."

An arm was raised flimsily as Deku waved goodbye as well and smiled, still a little baffled from their unexpected meeting, "Yeah, maybe we will."

As Haruka's figure turned around and began to fade from view, a single question remained in Deku's analysis-filled brain. Where did she learn those combat reflexes from?

On the other hand, for Haruka, she took in the new piece of information she had learned from Deku. Apparently, one of her old childhood friends was going to apply to U.A. as well, although not through recommendations, it seemed.

Even as she continued her path to school and walked through her middle school gates, her mind persistently floated back to the determination in Deku's eyes and the hard work he was putting into training for U.A. entrance exams. As expected, Deku, and surely Bakugo as well, was firmly following what had been his ambition since childhood – becoming a professional hero and saving people.

It would be people like Deku, with his heart of gold and eyes full of optimism and hope, who would truly make a change in the hero society. Or people like Bakugo, with his unwavering determination and resilient strength. Haruka wondered where she would fit in within a school full of people like that as someone who rejected heroism and the values of the hero society.

Much like what had occurred earlier with her mother, as Haruka handed in the permission form to her homeroom teacher, she couldn't look him in the eyes even while he beamed at her with pride. Listening obediently as he explained the rules and the date of the U.A. recommendation entrance exam, Haruka's eyes remained fixated once again on her hands.

She may not be like them, but she had _always_ been good at pretending.

* * *

Several weeks later, Haruka found herself at the very entrance to U.A. High School, observing the school's cutting-edge technology and architecture with an absent look on her face. This school was the birthplace of countless celebrated pro-heroes and would normally inspire even those who simply glanced at it, but Haruka felt nothing except for a slight numbness in her chest. She couldn't believe that she was truly doing this. Adjusting the weight of her bag on her shoulder, she walked towards the school's main doors where a small group of people were already gathering.

Haruka paused as her eyes methodically scanned over the people within the crowd, who were all recommended students from a wide variety of schools, and attempted to memorize some of their faces. Most of them seemed to be elite, wealthy kids who came from prestigious middle schools.

Her eyes first rested upon the one boy who stood out the most among the other teenagers. With a tall frame, bulky build and buzzed hair, that boy was the only one who didn't seem to look like middle-school student at all. Due to his well-built body and height, she suspected that he had a strength-based quirk but stopped to consider the possibility of a wind-based quirk as well when she dwelled on his hair, which he might have buzzed to prevent from hindering him during wind movements.

Continuing on, she analyzed the appearances and possible quirks of a wide variety of people. The girl in the middle of the crowd who wore her black hair up in a ponytail carried an expensive branded bag and exuded an air of high-end intelligence. Comparatively, there was boy who lingered silently to the side with pale skin, spiked beige hair and rows of teeth that revealed themselves distinguishably on his face without any lips, reminding her of skull. On the opposite side of the crowd, a girl with wavy, dark green hair and large, sharp eyes seemed to be missing a part of her face. At this, Haruka blinked and wondered whether she was seeing things correctly before she concluded that it must be the girl's quirk.

The last person she noticed had hair that reminded her of a candy cane. Half of it was as white as snow and the other was a deep red color. Regardless of his candy-cane hair, the boy had a frighteningly serious expression on his face and a large scar blanketed his eye. Perhaps he wielded a dual-natured quirk in accordance to his dual-natured appearance. Oddly, there was something about him that seemed distantly familiar, and she took a moment to consider if she had ever seen him before. As Haruka took in his presence, the boy's mismatched eyes zeroed in on her, noticing her quiet observations on people.

Although startled that she had been spotted, Haruka held on to the eye contact as if she was silently challenging him to break off eye contact first. Ultimately, he looked away, unaffected and uninterested, when it was announced that the written exam would soon begin.

With the announcement, Haruka began to move inside the building as well, following the crowd. But she couldn't help sighting the buzz-cut boy approach "Candy-Cane Head" with a wide, enthusiastic smile and a hint of recognition in his gaze. Sadly, Candy-Cane Head brushed him off coldly without any hesitation, muttering something that Haruka wasn't able to catch, and the buzz-cut boy stared at his retreating figure, frozen in surprise. Poor thing.

As all the participants entered and the written exam began, Haruka inhaled deeply and looked over all the questions. Although she was reluctant to participate in the U.A. recommendation entrance exam, her decision had already been made and she didn't like to back out of things, so she had studied and practiced extensively in preparation. With that in mind, she breezed through most of the questions, especially in mathematics.

While others were visibly struggling in their seats, Haruka put down her pen after finishing the test and fastidiously checking over all her answers. Curious, she glanced around the room to see if anyone else had finished quickly like she had.

The boy with the red and white hair seemed to be done as well since he was blankly staring at the front of the room, pen down and test filled. Similarly, the girl with the ponytail seemed to be calmly reviewing her completed answers, unmoved by the test's difficulty.

"Alright everyone! Pens down! It's time to move on to the practical exam."

A few groans resounded throughout the room and the sounds of pens irately clattering down on the table marked the sign of surrender from several candidates, who likely didn't finish the exam.

"Please follow the directions to changing room, where you can change into your athletic wear," the exam proctor directed and smiled, "Good luck to you all. I'm sure you will all be delighted to know that the pro-hero Present Mic will be the one hosting the practical exam."

Murmurs broke out across the room at the sound of the voice-based pro-hero and the candidates began to shuffle excitedly to the practical section of the exam. As Haruka followed the designated signs towards changing room, she faintly reminisced how she used to listen to Present Mic's radio station when she was still very young. During those nights, she would squat next to her family's old radio device and try to keep very quiet, hoping that her father wouldn't wake up and hit her for listening to "useless shit" like how he often did.

Once she arrived at the changing room, Haruka chose a relatively secluded corner and cautiously took off her top. Several faint, old burn scars dotted her back like small polka-dots from when her father used to put out cigarettes on her. As she pulled a loose shirt over her head and turned around, she noticed how the ponytail girl's gaze loitered on her for a few moments before it hurriedly shifted to a different part of the room.

"Alright, alright! Are you ready everyone?" Present Mic's thrilled voice reverberated in her ears as soon as Haruka stepped out of the changing room and into the impressively built obstacle course that U.A. had prepared.

"It looks like you're all here, so let's get started with the instructions!" the pro-hero ushered enthusiastically towards the arena, "The test will consist of a 3-kilometer marathon through the obstacle course! However, bear in mind that this isn't a course you can complete by running alone. Make free use of your quirks and reach the goal! We'll be judging six at a time, so pay attention if your number is called!"

Haruka squinted down at the number on her shirt. Number 10. Her eyes skimmed over the students and spotted Candy-Cane Head. He was number 23. A few steps away was the buzz-cut boy, whose enormous frame seemed to dwarf the small number on his chest – number 41.

As the first batch of six students were called, Haruka stepped away, found a shaded wall and slumped quietly against it with arms crossed over her chest and eyes attentively examining the obstacle course.

"Excuse me," a figure loomed over her and Haruka shifted her gaze, finding herself staring at the ponytail girl who she had noticed at the entrance and locker room, "Do you mind if I stand here next to you?"

A courteous smile adorned Haruka's lips, "Not at all. Go ahead."

As the girl leaned on the wall next to her, Haruka's eyes sharply looked over her new standing partner. Similar to her previous analysis, she took note of how the girl carried an air of regality around her. Her ponytail sat high on her head and she wore a pleasant, calm expression on her face. Initially, Haruka speculated that she was trying to get information about Haruka's quirk or background as a potential competitor, but upon inspecting her more closely, she concluded that the girl didn't have hidden intentions.

"I'm Yaoyorozu Momo, by the way," she elegantly held out a hand, "I apologize for not introducing myself first."

Haruka shook her hand, slightly taken aback at her formal speech, "No worries. I'm Haruka Haiiro."

"I can see why you chose to stand here," Yaoyorozu discerned, gesturing at the obstacle course below them, "It has the best unblocked view of all the obstacles – a clever preemptive examination of the course."

Within her mind, Haruka discreetly let out a small smirk. Apparently, this Yaoyorozu girl was observant as well.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied vaguely.

She watched as Yaoyorozu's focus altered itself to the crowd and zeroed in on Number 23. Candy-Cane Head.

"Do you know who he is? Something about him seems loosely familiar."

"You don't know?" slightly surprised, Yaoyorozu responded, "That's Todoroki Shouto – the son of the famous pro-hero, Endeavour."

"Oh," Haruka recalled Endeavour, having once seen him on TV. Perhaps his son wielded a fire quirk as well, although she noted that fire-based quirks require a lot of skill in order to fully maximize their potential since most people would resort to simply 'making it hotter.'

"Next group!" Present Mic's strident voice pierced through her thoughts, "Number 41, 23, 16, 10, 12 and 31! Please make your way down to the starting line."

"Seems like I'm up," Haruka gently lifted herself off the wall at the sound of her number and waved goodbye at Yaoyorozu, who politely wished her good luck.

Stepping towards the starting line, Haruka situated herself between Endeavour's son and the buzz-cut boy. She didn't have to look to her left to recognize the waves of enthusiasm that radiated from the buzz-cut boy. On the other hand, to her right, Endeavour's son had cold, intensely focused eyes that never strayed from the path in front of them.

"Get ready everyone!" Haruka's stance hardened at the sound of Present Mic's voice. She was determined to finish first, and unlike some others here, Haruka was never afraid to play dirty.

Steadily, she bent one knee, putting one foot in front of the other, and prepared to re-vector her speed.

"Begin!"

A gust of wind erupted from her left and a path of smooth ice enveloped her right as Endeavour's son and buzz-cut boy raced ahead, already dominating the race. Haruka didn't waste any time and dashed forward as well, drastically increasing the magnitude of her speed vector.

"Number 41 and 23 take the lead at an unforeseen pace!" as usual, Present Mic was readily commentating from above, "But look, Number 10 is close behind them! Ladies and gentlemen, this might be the most exciting batch we'll see today!"

With the son of the famous flame hero, the boy with the colossal frame and herself at the lead, Haruka was able to easily weed out her competitors. The rest of their batch had already fallen far behind the three of them, so they were automatically classified as the unneeded extras in her mind. Thus, her only concern was with the two who were slightly ahead of her, Todoroki Shouto and the boy with the buzz-cut.

Now, with all consideration towards her quirk, Haruka was fully aware that she could easily overpower them. The ability to precisely manipulate the vectors of just about anything was not something to be underestimated.

However, as she watched the Todoroki boy and Number 41 scuffle with one another to take the leading spot, she decided that it would not be strategic to take the lead at this point. Even if she was able to override their speed, _maintaining_ that first place would take more effort than necessary due to having to compete with their quirks throughout the entire duration of the obstacle course. No, she had a different plan. Therefore, Haruka adjusted the vector of her speed accordingly and remained very slightly behind the two boys but still far ahead the rest of their batch.

Ice furiously clashed with wind in front of her and left freezing gusts of air in their wake. Haruka mused at the irony of Endeavour's son wielding an ice-based quirk while she took a moment to give herself a mental pat-on-the-back for correctly predicting the buzz-cut boy's wind-based quirk. Left and right, the two boys destroyed every obstacle unlike any of the students in other batches before them, and Haruka followed close behind.

But that was fine. She would let them have their fun for now.

For a while, the exam continued that way – Todoroki and the buzz-cut boy up ahead, Haruka a few steps away and then the rest of their batch severely lagging behind. But just as the finish line came into view, Haruka did what she had always been best at and put her strategy into play.

Ramping up her speed, she not only increased the magnitude of her speed vector, but she also added to her velocity by changing the vectors of the surrounding winds to create a high-powered air boost forward. At this point, her sudden acceleration allowed her to catch up and slice right between Endeavour's son and the taller boy, who let out a surprised shout. But if she wanted to succeed in this, she had to be fast, agile and swift.

"Oh, there it is!" Present Mic yowled, "Number 10, with the looks of a gentle angel, surprises us all with an unexpected show of strength, boosting her up to the leading spot as well! I wonder what she has in mind."

Blood rushed to her head in exhilaration as she turned to the buzz-cut boy and altered the vectors of the winds he had been producing. Instead of propelling him forward, Haruka re-directed his winds so that it drove him backwards. She regarded him with flawless composure and watched as the glimmer of victory faded from his eyes and a strangled yell tore through his lips.

Suddenly, Todoroki was on guard. This girl had been firmly behind them for the entire race, and yet she abruptly decided to catch up near the finish line when they had been expecting it the least, thrusting the other boy completely out of the leading position. But he failed to register the fact that Haruka wasn't finished.

Before Todoroki could move out of the way, Haruka leapt up and landed a ruthless kick filled with ground-shattering force on the wave of ice he had been riding. By escalating the magnitude of her kick's force vector, Todoroki's ice became utterly defenseless against the heavy attack and it crumpled apart like glass. The boy let out a frustrated grunt as he toppled to the ground, no longer able to rely on his ice to move him forward.

And with that, Haruka eased through the finish line with first place, a casual smile on her face.

"Number 10 seizes first place with a bewildering attack against the previously leading boys!" Present Mic announced and recorded her time while Haruka could feel the stunned stares of other participants drilling into her.

The large boy was quicker to compose himself after Haruka's attack and came in second with Endeavour's son as a close third.

As the boy with the buzz-cut took a moment to compose himself, his gaze landed on Haruka. Upon first glance, he had thought that the girl was harmless. She possessed a small frame and delicate features that painted itself on a pallid shade of skin. Next to his own large build and tough appearance, she seemed as if she would snap like a twig. But now he understood.

Underneath that loose t-shirt, the girl's deceivingly small figure was built by lean, agile muscle. With the added fact that she was a lightweight, it altogether made it easier for her to move much faster than others and have greater freedom in her mobility and range of motion. Not to mention that she must have extremely fine control over her quirk if she was able to apply it on herself, him and Endeavour's son all simultaneously.

"Hey!" Haruka didn't have to turn around to identify the person who had called out to her, "That was a mean thing you did back there, but I respect your skill!"

"My name is Yoarashi Inasa," he continued, approaching her, "It's nice to meet you!"

A smile glided onto her lips as she admired his good-natured response to her relatively sly move earlier, "Nice to meet you too. I'm Haruka Haiiro."

"That was some impressive use of your quirk. Does your quirk deal with controlling direction?"

"A little more than that," Haruka held up a finger and produced a small tornado by re-vectoring a passing breeze, "I control vectors, so the direction and magnitude of things. That's how I crushed the ice from Endeavour's son too."

Yoarashi's eyes twinkled with curiosity at the little swirl on her finger before it dimmed at the mention of the Todoroki boy, "Oh right, Endeavour's son. Speaking of which, I'm going to go talk to him. Have a good day!"

Nodding silently in response, Haruka sent a small breeze of air in Yoarashi's direction as encouragement while he was walking away. Feeling the wind, he flinched and turned around, causing Haruka to smile and usher him towards the dual-colored boy with her fingers.

Unintentionally, she also ended up locking eyes with Endeavour's son once again, who was staring at her passive-aggressively.

"Sorry," she mouthed at him.

The only response she received was a frosty stare and the turn of his head as the boy hmph-ed away. Haruka decided that his icy personality was a suitable match for his quirk.

"Alright, kids!" Present Mic yelled after several other batches had finished the course, "The final portion of the entrance exam will be an interview, so change back to your uniforms and we'll call your name for an interview session."

Heading back to the locker room, she peeked from the corner of her eye as Todoroki Shouto responded harshly to Yoarashi's attempt to befriend him again in the distance. What was it that made the son of a famous pro-hero develop such a taciturn and unfriendly personality?

In the changing area, just as Haruka was about to pull off her shirt, Yaoyorozu strolled up to her with gleaming, wide eyes.

"Haruka, that was amazing!" she beamed, "You have such a unique quirk. It made your batch so fascinating to watch. I noticed that you, Todoroki Shouto and Yoarashi Inasa all have recorded times that exceed all the first place candidates from other batches."

Having seen Yaoyorozu's quirk in her batch's completion of the obstacle course, Haruka replied, "Thank you, Yaoyorozu. You have a wonderful quirk yourself and I imagine that it has many more useful applications than mine."

Her newfound friend blushed and opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of Haruka's phone ringing from within the locker. She flashed an apologetic smile at Yaoyorozu, who seemed unbothered, before reaching in her bag to check the caller's identity.

An unknown number glared at her from the screen, but Haruka knew well enough who it was.

"I'm sorry. I have to take this call,"

"Oh, it's fine," Yaoyorozu stepped out of the way as Haruka strode out of the changing room.

Emerging from the door and scanning the empty U.A. hallways a few times for good measure, Haruka warily answered the call, all hints of emotion now devoid from her voice, "You've got a job for me?"

"Sort of," the slurred tone from the other end made her skin crawl in disgust as she fought against rolling her eyes at the elusive response. Most of the middle-men she had worked with always sickened her.

"So, what are you calling me for then?"

"There's someone who wants to meet you, so it's sort of like a job."

Haruka's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concerns regarding the U.A. exam sailed out the window, "Who?"

Despite him being on the other side of a phone call in some sordid, ugly-ass office, she could almost imagine the man on the phone smirking, displaying a few gold teeth and a cigarette on his parched lips.

"He represents a group of collectively driven, unique individuals. Maybe you'll fit right in with them. His name is Giran."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey everyone, I'm back!**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed! I truly appreciate all the reviews and I love reading every single one of them. :)**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter V  
**

" _Hell is empty and all the devils are here."_

\- Shakespeare, The Tempest

Act I, Scene II

* * *

The streets were silent that night. Like an old, unwelcome friend, the uneasy feeling that permeated her mind whenever she donned the porcelain mask and silver-haired wig returned. They were the sole witnesses to all the terrible things she had committed, and they mocked her relentlessly for it.

"Poor little Haruka," they jeered silently whenever she put them on, "does your mommy know what you're doing?"

Perhaps Haruka was going insane.

But of course, she was. Everyone in her line of work must be, at the very least, slightly insane to have done the things that they did.

A tender sigh escaped her lips and she felt it caress her face within the mask, reminding her once again of the reassuring fact that her identity was hidden behind the porcelain. As she glanced around her, she pulled out her phone from her pocket and stared at the map on the screen for several still moments, confirming that she was at the correct destination.

In front of her, an old, abandoned warehouse scowled down at her. Rust and cracks crawled across its walls like foreboding claws and the eerie evening atmosphere did nothing but add to the apprehension she felt deep within her chest. Indeed, it seemed to be a fitting place for criminals to assemble, much like something straight out of a horror film.

For a moment, her mind slid back to a few days before when she had been at U.A., taking the recommendation entrance exam and meeting all those skilled people who were determined to become heroes. Haruka recalled the final stage after the obstacle course – the interview session.

"One final thing," the interviewer had glanced up at her as she asked, "Why do you want to become a hero?"

Haruka had expected that sort of question to appear. But even so, she still felt slightly troubled when the words burst from the interviewer's lips.

She was silent for a few moments before she decided to answer, "Because I love my mom."

"Excuse me?"

"I love my mom," Haruka repeated, a little louder, a little surer of herself, "and because of that, she inspires me to want to help people like her by becoming a hero."

The interviewer smiled warmly at her before scribbling something down on her papers, "That's a touching response."

Looking back at it now, Haruka supposed that she wasn't _exactly_ lying. It's true that she decided to take the exam for U.A.'s hero course because she loved her mom and respected her desires, but she had long given up on the dream of helping others and pursuing heroism, which dragged her thoughts back to her current surroundings.

Her hand reached out towards the warehouse's doors. As she placed her fingers around the handle of the rusty doorknob, she mused about how her pale, smooth hand displayed such a stark contrast against the dark, old doorknob, as if it didn't belong there. And for a moment, she did feel that she truly didn't belong here.

Haruka was only just about to enter high school. Up until recently, her record had been clean and untainted. Everybody around her constantly told her that she was gifted with a powerful quirk, talented, intelligent and attractive in a soft, delicate manner. Certainly, what _was_ a girl like her doing in a place like this?

But once again, she reminded herself, she _did_ belong here. The real Haruka was desperate, selfish and cruel. The real Haruka had suffered from years of concealed physical and psychological abuse from her father, who only went on to show her how flawed the hero system was.

Perhaps on the outside, she appeared as an outlier in such a repugnant place, but on the inside, she fitted right in. Like the people within the warehouse who were waiting for her, society would have viewed the real Haruka as an outcast – someone who rejected the hero society's values and hero-worship. And like them, she was no stranger to crime.

But if doing those things meant that she could provide for her and her mother, that was fine with her.

Truly, Haruka was a selfish person.

Her grip on the handle tightened and she pushed on the doors. Slowly, the old, rusted doors gave in and they creaked and wailed in horror as the young, seemingly innocent girl stepped into the deserted warehouse.

As soon as she entered, she was greeted with the sight of three men. One was a middle-aged man, a cigarette pressed comfortably between his dark lips and the glint of a golden tooth peeking from underneath. The other one seemed relatively young, a man with shaggy blue hair that looked like he hadn't seen a bath in years. Most curious of them all was a man in a dapper-looking suit, except she didn't really know if he could be considered a man technically speaking, as he was just a misty figure of one.

"Artemis, is it?" the one with the cigarette spoke, an ominous sheen in his dark sunglasses. This one must be Giran.

"Yes," she replied, voice soft and wary.

"This is the new recruit?" the homeless-looking one croaked. Haruka did _not_ like his immediate judgmental tone, "What the fuck? She looks as small as a middle-schooler."

Recruit? Haruka had no idea what either of them were talking about, and neither of them seemed like the type of people she had much patience for.

"I apologize for the lack of manners. My name is Giran," the first man interrupted, stretching his arms out in a mocking bow, "This here's Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri is the misty thing you see over there."

"I take offense to being called that," Kurogiri remarked.

Haruka sighed mentally, "Is there a point to all of this?"

"Yes, yes, well –"

"We are the League of Villains," Kurogiri jumped in, seemingly irritated by Giran's casual behavior, "To put it simply, we are a group of people who are striving to make the world a better place by bringing an end to the hero society."

The warehouse was silent suddenly and Haruka felt a shiver involuntarily course through her small frame. It seemed that she had misunderstood the purpose of this meeting.

From the corner of her eye, she could discern Shigaraki Tomura's bratty attitude as he continued to glare at her with an aggravated expression. Silently, she took careful note of him. She'd seen people like him before – people with that wild, unstable look in their eyes. Those were the kind of people who destroyed and disrupted simply because they desired to, uncaring of the consequences. And she knew that those people were especially dangerous.

Kurogiri took her silence as approval to continue, "You seem young, Artemis. There must be a reason that someone like you is involved in the criminal underworld."

Sharp gray eyes flickered back to the purple mist. " _And so?_ " her eyes seemed to wordlessly question even behind the shadow of her mask.

"I'm sure, then, that you of all people understand how _hard_ life is. How cruel and unfair our world is as we live crushed under the heel of heroes, who are worshipped like gods among men," the glowing yellow eyes narrowed ominously amongst the mist, "Wouldn't you like to change that, child? Don't you want life to be different?"

The answer was obvious in Haruka's own mind.

Of course, she wanted a different life, and of course, she wanted to change hero society. But just because she loathed heroism and was a bitter about it did not necessarily mean that she was foolish. Haruka was a smart girl, she had always been one, and joining a terrorist organization that seemed to be nothing but trouble was not a smart move.

"Listen," she began, pausing at the way her youthful voice echoed in a way that seemed glaringly out-of-place. "I really don't give a shit about your political goals, and I'm not going to stand here while you recite your villain manifesto. In case it wasn't clear, I came here for money. That is all. And seeing that that's not what this is about, I'm out."

Tension engulfed the scene as the men in front of her took in her words. Suddenly, there was a furious groan and the sound of tightly clenched fists.

"Are you looking down on us?!" Shigaraki roared.

Ah, right. It seemed she had angered the sensitive one.

"No, I'm merely saying that I'm not interested in your villain club."

"You dare…" he rasped, "to _belittle_ us?"

She couldn't help it. A sarcastic scoff tore through her lips as she sneered under her mask, a chilling gaze directed straight at Shigaraki, "Looking at you, I'm afraid it's hard not to."

"YOU—"

Haruka felt the air shift around her before she saw it. In the background, there was a distant, warning yell of "Shigaraki Tomura, don't!" And then, suddenly, there was a large, pale hand that loomed over her, coming closer and closer.

Fine. If they wanted a fight, she would give them one.

"I said…" she gritted her teeth, relishing in the sensation of her blood pulsing through her veins and the familiar mental thrum that was associated with using her quirk.

Just as the hand was a mere inch away from her mask, Haruka unleashed her quirk. Under her heel, the ground of the warehouse shattered apart like dried clay, and as she re-vectored the surrounding air, a powerful gust of wind brutally shoved all three men off their feet before they could even blink.

Glass from the warehouse's old windows burst one after the other, showering the empty room with sharp, glimmering pieces that fluttered in the demolished aftermath of Haruka's wind vectors. In the midst of it all stood the young girl, steady and unfazed as a warning of her skill.

"…I wasn't interested. That's my final decision."

The only immediate response she received was the sound of Giran's glasses slipping to the floor in a bewildered state.

"What a shame," Giran drawled as he was trying to get himself back up, an amused expression on his face in spite of his disheveled state, "This one would have had a lot of potential for the League, as we can see."

"If that's all," Haruka's eyes ran over each one of them, analyzing their responses and carefully considering the possibility of a counterattack, "I'm going to take my leave now."

She kept her mind and senses alert as she turned her back on the group of villains, clearing her path of the destroyed warehouse debris as she made her way out. It was only after she was several steps outside the warehouse that she hurriedly ducked into a nearby deserted alley and allowed her guard to drop, alone and undisturbed.

A shaky exhale left her lips. As she leaned her head heavily on the wall of the dark alleyway, the light clink of her mask against the concrete reminded her of its presence. In that silent moment, Haruka contemplated.

The mask felt heavy on her face. Unbearably so. On all the nights when she donned her darker character, the porcelain mask always had a distinct sensation that weighed her down. But on some rare nights, it felt heavier than others, like it was trying to drown her in a different world, a different identity. It seemed that tonight was one of those nights.

Without making a sound, Haruka lifted a pallid arm and gently pulled her mask off. Perhaps it was the prior meeting she had with the group of unnerving villains, or maybe it was the sordid setting surrounding her, but it felt as though the mask obscuring her face was agonizingly suffocating. There were times when her mask was a comfort, like the blanket she used to hide under as a child, yet there were also times when it felt like a stifling obstruction she couldn't bear to breathe in.

As soon as the mask was off and she could feel the cooling night breeze against her cheeks, an immediate sense of relief flooded her chest. For a while, Haruka stood there, head rested against the wall and her true naked face bared to the world for anyone to see.

It was stupid. It was stupid of her to agree to meet with those people and it was stupid of her to even come here to begin with. All of this was so stupid and dangerous and reckless and she just wanted to go _home_.

Her mind racing with clouded thoughts, Haruka was blissfully unaware of the subtle footsteps that approached behind her. The man materialized out of thin air and slinked silently closer, until a single, quiet word was all that was needed to break into Haruka's trance.

"Artemis."

Her body moved without thinking. Whirling around in reflex, Haruka immediately braced her arms up around her and prepared to activate her quirk, her heart thundering in her chest and eyes blown wide open to search for potential threats.

It was only when she found herself staring at a dark fog and an elegant suit that she realized exactly who it was.

A mildly surprised expression wore itself in Kurogiri's glowing eyes, "It appears that you are younger than what I had expected. The face of innocence, it seems."

And that's when Haruka realized that she could still feel the chilly evening air on her cheeks, whispering and laughing at her recklessness as it wisped past her.

Her face was still uncovered.

A quiet gasp leaked traitorously from her mouth and her hand shot up to cover what she could of her face. In front of her, she could see the way Kurogiri quietly observed her scrambling to put the mask back on.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that, isn't it?"

Haruka was fuming from underneath her mask. Should she kill him? Get rid of the only eyewitness? But she didn't want to risk provoking the wrath of an entire terrorist organization if she killed one of their members. Who knew what the League of Villains were capable of?

"Relax. How about a proposition, Artemis?" Kurogiri's smooth, polite tone pulled her from her thoughts once again, "One job."

The young girl was unresponsive, caught between trying to decide what to do and listening to what he was saying.

"Just one job for us. You have a supremely useful quirk, and we need someone like you on this job. It'll be a relatively mundane one for you. As I've heard from Giran, it will be like your other hits – in and out, one target."

"I thought I already told you—"

"I understand you only want money, and we can give you that. We will pay you well for this. _Very_ well."

The odds were already not in Haruka's favor. If she refused, who knows what this man could do with the knowledge of her real face? And it seemed that they weren't asking her to do anything too different from her usual jobs.

"Fine," she relented, her hands clamped stiffly at her sides, "I'll do it. Send me the details through the intermediary. Giran will know who to contact."

Kurogiri's eyes narrowed in what seemed to be a smile, although it was difficult to tell, "Wonderful. It will be nice working with you."

Haruka fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was this, an office team project? The frustration and eeriness of tonight's meeting was truly starting to get on her nerves. She needed to leave and calm herself down. In one night alone, she had already managed to mess up numerous times, and it wasn't like her at all to lose her composure.

Without saying anything else, Haruka left the dark alleyway behind, not daring to look back at the villainous man behind her as she simply kept walking, her thoughts a dark cloud over her head.

 _One job_ , they echoed.

* * *

As soon as Haruka arrived home out of her disguise and back in normal attire, she trudged past the small living area before she spotted her mom gazing at something on the floor.

"Are the floorboards broken again?" the young teen questioned, exasperated and exhausted as she crouched down next to her frail mother.

The older woman chuckled nervously, "It's alright, Haiiro. I'll find a way to fix it myself."

"That's not going to work," she stated tiredly before sighing once more and standing up to head to her room, "Just use the payment I received from my job last week. That should be more than enough."

"But—"

"It'll be fine, Mom," Haruka turned her head over her shoulder from where she stood facing the room door. Her hand trembled slightly, but her body hid it from her mother's view. "I'll take care of us, I promise."

"Haiiro…" Her mother looked like she was aching to say something more, but a sudden light entered her eyes, "Oh, dear! I can't believe I almost forgot. There's a letter from U.A. for you."

"U.A.?"

"Yes, isn't that exciting? I placed it in your room for you."

"…Alright. Thanks, Mom," she replied before quickly entering her room.

As she placed her bag heavily down on the floor, her eyes zeroed in on the sealed white envelope that lay innocently on her desk.

Deciding to get it over with swiftly, Haruka plopped down on the seat, wincing as the old chair creaked loudly, and ripped open the letter. A small, round device tumbled out of the letter and as it settled on her desk, a large projection appeared unexpectedly. The face on the projection was wholly familiar to her, one she had seen many times as a child on t-shirts and convenience store products. The strongest hero in the world, All Might.

"I am here as a projection!" The loud voice boomed at her and Haruka flinched slightly at the volume, "Congratulations, young Haruka! I am pleased to announce your acceptance into U.A. High School!"

Indifferently, Haruka propped her feet up on the desk and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she listened to the message. Her mind was torn on whether she was supposed to be overjoyed or dreadful. Thousands of other aspiring heroes would have done anything to be in her place, but she couldn't help the shame and emptiness that wrestled inside of her. The fact was that she _wasn't_ an aspiring hero. She just wanted to survive.

Moreover, she had literally accepted an offer to work with a villain organization mere hours ago, for goodness' sake.

"You performed extraordinarily well, earning the top score in U.A.'s recommendation entrance exam! Your skilled control and expertise with your quirk will surely serve you well in your time here at U.A. I cannot wait to see your progress as a hero-in-training and—"

With one of the feet she had resting on top of the desk, she kicked the small device in an attempt to turn it off, cutting All Might off in the middle of his speech. She lacked the patience to listen to the rest of the message and there was only one point to it all anyway – she had been accepted.

A honed, razor-sharp gaze focused on the glitching heroic figure on screen.

 _Wouldn't you like to change that, child? Don't you want life to be different?_

"Symbol of Peace, huh…" she scoffed.

Gazing up at the famed hero and hearing him personally say her name, old memories of hero-worship and childhood friends flashed in her mind. However, she wasn't the same Haruka as she was as a child. She knew now that life was far from what she once thought it was like. There are no such things as heroes, and there is no such thing as a true Symbol of Peace. No one is going to save you if you can't grow strong enough to save yourself.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. Regardless, she knew what she had to do.

It seemed that she was going to U.A.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I've decided that Haruka's two theme songs are "everything i wanted" by Billie Eilish (for sad!Haruka hours) and "Watch Me" by Jaden Smith (for strong!Haruka hours) hahaha. But of course, Haruka's ultimate anthem is "bad guy" by Billie Eilish! I love those songs!**

 **Well, without further ado, enjoy the next chapter and please heed the warnings!**

 **Reviews and thoughts are greatly appreciated**

(〃・ω・〃)ノ~

 **Warnings: graphic descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse**

* * *

 **The Antihero – Chapter VI  
**

" _It is so much safer not to feel,_

 _not to let the world touch me."_

\- Sylvia Plath

* * *

There was a blanket over her head, and it was dark. Very dark.

Haruka held her breath out of reflex.

Ah, she knew where this was.

Loud, staggering footsteps roared from down the hallway and the creaking floorboards that accompanied them were a familiar sound. She was trembling now, her tiny fists clenched so tightly around the blanket's worn-down material that her knuckles turned white. Why were her hands suddenly so small? Why was she _here_?

The sound of a glass bottle shattering on the floor and a feminine cry tore her from her thoughts. Oh no, she had miscalculated. He sounded much closer than she had thought. Her heart thundered in her chest like a wild beast in its cage as her palms turned cold and clammy.

She thought she already knew his patterns and analyzed them correctly. But she was wrong tonight, and it didn't matter how many times this happened because every single time she felt the same hand of fear and failure strangling her throat. She needed to get away. She needed to get away. She needed to—

"Get out from under there, you useless piece of shit!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a huge hand snatched her by the back of her neck, and then all she felt was the force of the wind being brutally slammed out of her. She had forgotten how painful this part was.

As the blanket fluttered open uselessly around her, her teary eyes had a brief moment to accustom themselves to the sudden light before a foot came hurling down on her chest.

"You little bitch!" there was a kick to her stomach, a kick to her chest and then a kick to her back, "You thought you could hide from _me_?!"

Haruka could take this. She would be strong, strong like the blonde-haired boy she met at the playground and strong like the pro-heroes she would see on TV. It doesn't hurt.

The young girl curled in on herself, hoping to reduce some of the blows to her frail body. But then the man gave a particularly ruthless stomp to her face and she let out a broken, strangled yell that was cut half-way through by the foot crushing down on her cheek.

Cold fury swirled in his gray eyes as he peered down at her with nothing but disgust. It was the same gray eyes Haruka had inherited from him, but darker, deeper and dangerous.

"If only you—" he hiccupped, "If only you hadn't been born, you filthy little thing. Then maybe things would have been different. Maybe I would have been fucking _rich_!"

"You understand, don't you?" the foot kept pushing harder and harder on her cheek, "That you're nothing but a parasite? That you're a useless, pathetic burden to everyone?"

As the pain on her face started to become unbearably agonizing, she began sobbing, heavy tears mixing in with dirt and grime from the man's foot.

Haruka thought she could handle it. She thought she was as strong as her playground-hero friends, but it hurt so _so_ much. It was all so painful, and the worst part was that she knew no one was going to save her. There wasn't going to be any heroes swooping in to save the day. No one cared about useless little Haruka.

"P-Please…" her weak, muffled voice surprised even herself at how pitiful she sounded, "Please d-don't hurt me…"

What was the point in begging? It always ended the same, anyway.

She cried out as the man unexpectedly picked her up by the hair and shoved her face so that she was forced to look at him. At this proximity, she could smell the repulsive, heavy stench of alcohol that always haunted his figure.

"You think that I'm _hurting_ you right now, Haiiro?" he paused for a horrific moment, and then he cackled. It was a terrifying sound forever etched in her memory.

"Wow, I was being so kind in teaching you a lesson about yourself, and now you have the nerve to whine that I'm – I'm hurting you?!" his laughter died down and instead mutated into a cruel snarl on his lips. "I could do so much worse to you and I actually had the heart to choose not to. But _now_? After you try to blame me for how fucking weak and useless you are? Don't think I'm going to be as forgiving anymore."

"NO—" Haruka's yells were interrupted as her father snatched her ankle and abruptly started dragging her away.

"P-Please, I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! I'M—"

And then, suddenly, he was gone.

There was no more painful grip on her ankle or the sound of her fingernails clawing desperately against old wooden floorboards.

"Wha…" Haruka blinked slowly and found herself sitting up, waiting for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings.

Tentatively, she looked down at her hands. They weren't tiny anymore. And there was a blanket on her, but it wasn't the same one she had as a child. It was a normal, pale blue blanket she and her mother had purchased a few—

Oh.

"I was… dreaming…" she murmured absentmindedly to herself before studying her surroundings.

The first few slivers of morning light fluttered into her small bedroom, painting it with serene shades of hazy purple and blue. On her desk, there was a round device that lay idly, its fancy technological appearance contrasting sharply with the rest of her old, dull living space.

Right. Today was supposed to be her first day at U.A.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she slouched against her pillow, the tension beginning to seep out of her body at the comfort of reality. It was a stupid dream. Nothing she hadn't known before.

Regardless, she could still feel her heart pulsing franticly, struggling to warn her of a threat that was no longer present. Trying to calm herself, she rubbed a hand against her face, but when she pulled it away, she found it to be moist.

Fuck, she was _crying_.

"What the hell…" she muttered to herself, but her body betrayed her as more tears started to pour down, creating dark, wet spots on the blanket below her.

Haruka hated feeling this way. _Weak_.

She had promised herself all those years ago, when her father stepped out the door and abandoned her and her mother, that she would never again feel the way her father made her feel. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. A burden. A dead-weight on their family.

It was fine if others viewed her that way. In fact, Haruka sometimes preferred it. It made it so much easier to overpower people when they underestimated her as a fragile little girl. She didn't care if other people thought she was weak, but she despised it when she _felt_ weak herself – the dreadful feeling of being unable to do anything, powerless against somebody else and _knowing_ it.

On that day, she vowed to become stronger, tougher and harder, so that no one could touch what had already been broken within her.

And yet, here she was. Crying like a puny baby. Sobbing like the child who once believed heroes would come and save her.

"Maybe he was right," she chuckled to herself in the empty room amidst her sniffles, "I'm so pathetic."

It took her quite some time to calm down, but she eventually succeeded. Haruka didn't want to wake her mother up for such a meaningless problem, so she cupped her hands against her mouth and subdued her unwilling cries to the best of her ability. By the time her tears had dried and the phantoms of her nightmare were fading to the back of her mind, the sun had almost finished rising.

So Haruka moved on. She got up, splashed her face with icy water, took a shower and began dressing in her brand-new U.A. uniform, like nothing at all ever happened.

As she was adjusting the red tie around her neck, she faltered for a moment and pressed her palms to her closed eyes.

" _He can't hurt you anymore, Haiiro_ ," her thoughts whispered to her, " _You're stronger now._ "

"I am," she repeated to herself. It was a promise, a prayer, a pledge, "I am."

She was Haruka Haiiro. She was 16-years-old. She had a mother named Asami and a home in Musutafu, Japan. She was a U.A. student and she was going to train to become a pro-hero. She was strong. She was fine. It's all going to be fine. Deep breaths.

Lowering her hands, Haruka gently opened her eyes again. The initial blurriness was relaxing, like she was hitting the pause button on the world around her. Finally, as she regained her composure and her sight cleared, she hoisted her schoolbag on her shoulder, preparing to head out.

Before stepping out her room to say goodbye to her mother, her glance fluttered down to the acceptance CD that she had shoved aside to the corner of her desk.

For the young Haruka in her dreams, this would have been everything she fantasized about – getting accepted into the best hero academy in Japan, attending with a full scholarship and meeting All-Might, the Number 1 Hero, in the very flesh.

Now, though, she wasn't sure how to feel about all of it. Apprehensive at best, perhaps.

Someone else should have taken her spot, Haruka mused. Someone kinder, purer and more heroic. Not someone as pathetic and twisted as she was.

She took a long breath in and then exhaled heavily.

" _Lift your head, move your feet and put that smile on, Haiiro,_ " she mentally reminded herself, " _You can do this_."

She could do this.

* * *

Arriving at U.A.'s entrance as an actual student, wearing their uniform and holding her U.A. student ID, it all felt much stranger than Haruka had imagined.

She adjusted the gray school-jacket slightly. Even in the U.A. uniform, she still felt out of place. The sleeves were a little longer on her than on all the other U.A. students she saw walking around. The tie around her neck hung a little too loosely and the jacket's shoulders were a little too broad. It was as if there always had to be something just a little lacking in her.

"1-A…" she repeated to herself as she walked through the school's boundless, glass-paned hallways, trying to find her assigned classroom.

Upon discovering the enormous door that had the symbols "1-A" etched into it, Haruka peered up at the alarming height of the entryway in front of her.

Intrigued, she raised a hand to the top of her head and compared her own body's height to the symbols on the door. Realizing that she wasn't even anywhere near as tall as the "A" symbol, the young girl croaked out a single sound, "Wow."

Just as Haruka was reaching for the handle, the door slid open surprisingly and revealed a head of curly, green hair she recognized almost immediately.

Green met gray as the pair let out a stunned greeting to each other.

"Deku!"

"Polka-dots! —"

Deku quickly slapped his hands against his mouth, his face turning a furious red, "I-I mean, your name, uh—"

She let out a pleasant laugh, her mood quickly improving as she took in the appearance of her childhood friend, "It's okay if you don't remember my real name, Deku. It's Haruka Haiiro, but you guys always called me 'Polka-dots' or sometimes also 'Iro-chan', remember?"

It was as if a light bulb went off in Deku's head, "Right! Iro-chan! Because it also sounded like 'Hero-chan', right?"

"Yeah," there was an inexplicable sense of warmth blooming in Haruka's chest. It felt like she was at the playground all over again, meeting her friends in a world that seemed so much lighter and happier than the one she had grown up in.

"You… got into U.A.?"

"Yeah, I did," she answered, before glancing over Deku's shoulder to peek into the classroom. "I told you that we might see each other again."

It seemed that she had been the last one to arrive, and some of the other students had turned their heads to her and Deku's conversation. She easily recognized Endeavour's son with his unmistakable appearance, and she gave a quick wave to Yaoyorozu at the back, who looked very delighted that her exam buddy was in the same class as her.

"But I didn't see you at the U.A. entrance exam…?"

"Oh," she paused for a moment, mentally wincing at the fact that she had left out this particular detail to him. "That's because I took the entrance exam for recommended students instead."

"You were a recommended student?"

"You were a recommended student?!"

Two voices behind Deku jumped out, simultaneously joining in their small reunion.

Haruka's eyes widened slightly, taking a step back. She wasn't exactly used to interacting with a lot of people.

There was a girl with a bubbly smile and chestnut eyes, smiling adorably at her, "Oh, sorry for interrupting like that! I'm Uraraka Ochako, nice to meet you."

Next to her, a dark-haired boy pushed up his glasses stiffly, "My name is Iida Tenya! I came from Somei Private Academy!"

"Nice to meet you guys," Haruka smiled gradually, "I'm Haruka Haiiro."

Iida nodded, "Indeed, I heard there was a student who took the recommendation entrance exam and didn't come from any private middle school. But that student received the top score among all the other recommended candidates."

"Iro-chan, you ranked highest in the recommendation exam?"

Deku was gazing at her with an expression conflicted between flabbergasted and amazed.

"I guess I did…?" she replied light-heartedly, trying to stray away from the topic of herself, "It doesn't matter now, though. The point is that I'm here, right?"

As she chuckled nervously, her eyes scanned over the rest of her classmates. Deku seemed like he wanted to say something more, but Haruka wasn't paying attention because as Deku's figure shifted to the side, her gaze instantly zeroed in on the irritated expression of the now visible boy sitting at the far left of the classroom. Blonde hair, crimson eyes and the signature scowl. There was no doubt in her mind.

"Bakugo."

The name left her mouth before she could stop it, and then her feet started moving, brushing past the classmates around her.

Haruka came to a pause in front of the boy's desk, smiling pleasantly. As expected, he made it into U.A. too.

"Huh?" he growled, briefly glancing over her, "Who the fuck are you?"

"K-Kacchan!" Deku squeaked from somewhere behind her, dismayed by Bakugo's rudeness.

Like before, her intimidating childhood friend never had any tact. But Haruka had gotten used to it, and she expected nothing less from Bakugo.

"Don't you remember me?" her eyes lit up with a hint of childish excitement as she pulled her hair up into two ebony-black ponytails, a hairstyle she frequented when she was younger, and raised her voice to mimic her younger self, " _Kacchan_!"

Someone to her left with spiky red hair burst out laughing, and then quickly scrambled to cover up his laughter with his hands.

Bakugo's eyes widened for a bit. Of course, with that kind of stupidly embarrassing introduction, he would remember her. He wasn't an idiot. Polka-dots.

"Get out of my sight, damn Polka-dots," he groaned, looking away.

Haruka's gaze softened. He _did_ remember.

It's alright if he didn't think much of her right now. Even as children, she had always been uniquely adept at reading the enigma that was Bakugo Katsuki. That's why she understood the reason Bakugo currently looked down on her.

In his mind, she was still the frail, sickly young girl from their childhood who was only good for her playground strategies; the girl who constantly had polka-dot-like bruises all over her because she was "clumsy". As kids, Bakugo had never seen her quirk, let alone witnessed how she utilized it. Moreover, the way the U.A. uniform swallowed her up like she was a sad tiny thing didn't exactly help her case.

Haruka was well aware of the fact that Bakugo only took strong people seriously. And so, before he could respect her, he would have to see that she wasn't the same weak kid she had been in the past.

" _I'm stronger now_ ," her thoughts whispered to her once again as she glanced at Bakugo with her usual patient expression, " _And I can show you that_."

Her thoughts were interrupted by a low, deep voice that came from the classroom entrance, near where Iida, Uraraka and Deku were gathered. "It took you all eight seconds before you were quiet."

"Time is limited. You kids are not rational enough," the man grumbled.

As he stepped inside the classroom, Haruka was able to discern his full appearance. He appeared to be middle-aged man with long, shaggy black hair and an eternally unimpressed expression.

"I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota. Nice to meet you," and then, to Haruka's incredulity, he pulled out an actual sports uniform from his yellow sleeping bag.

"It's pretty sudden, but put this on and go out into the field."

A moment of silence engulfed the class.

" _U.A. is such a strange school…_ " she contemplated to herself.

* * *

It turned out that their very first day was going to consist of a Quirk Assessment Test.

From beside her, Haruka could hear Uraraka asking about the entrance ceremony and orientation.

"If you're going to become a hero, you don't have time for such leisurely events," Aizawa-sensei replied coldly, "U.A.'s selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes."

As Aizawa-sensei explained the technicalities of the tests, Haruka began meticulously planning out her moves.

" _So, like regular fitness tests but with the added factor of quirk usage, huh…_ " she thought.

She knew that if these tests were going to be physical fitness and mobility-based, there was no doubt she would excel. Because perhaps the most distinct aspect of her quirk was that it's extremely _versatile_. Virtually everything around her that existed and was able to move had direction and magnitude. Thus, the ability to manipulate both those factors with Vector Control allowed her to manipulate pretty much any mobile entity.

Still, it did not make her invincible. The versatility of her quirk required extensive mental mathematics and an extremely precise understanding of kinematics. Otherwise, it'd be uncontrollable. Furthermore, Haruka only had experience using her quirk to _attack_ , to harm and to kill. Rescue situations or defense situations were completely unfamiliar to her.

She watched carefully as Bakugo stepped up to the center, chosen to run a demonstration of the ball-throw test.

With the addition of a raging scream, Bakugo pitched the ball using an explosive blast, creating a terrifying amount of force behind his throw, "DIE!"

The ball shot into the air like a rocket, traveling further and further until it was a mere speck in the sky.

"Know your own maximum first. That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero," Aizawa-sensei explained as he showed the class Bakugo's result.

705.2 meters.

Haruka mentally nodded. Impressive.

The class exploded in awed exclamations at Bakugo's remarkable result but quickly sobered up with Aizawa-sensei's following words.

"Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential and will be punished with expulsion."

" _Either he's being serious…_ " Haruka narrowed her eyes cautiously, trying to gauge her teacher's intentions as she stared at the ominous smirk on his face, " _…Or he's trying to scare us into maximizing our efforts_."

Once again, Uraraka complained at how unfair the rules were, especially on the first day of school. But Aizawa-sensei quickly shut her down with the reality that hero-work and real-life was filled with unfairness.

"Go beyond. Plus Ultra," he recited, "Overcome it with all you've got. The real thing starts now."

The first test was a 50-meter dash. As Haruka situated herself at the start-line, she observed her competitors. Iida was to her right while a girl with frog-like features stood to her left. Crouching down into position, she let her mind take over, savoring the familiar feel of her quirk roaring to life.

For a moment, rather than being in the sports field of a prestigious hero academy, Haruka imagined that she was standing on a rooftop. The moon stood high above her as her eyes followed the imagined target's figure, who revealed himself through the window of the building in front. If she wanted to catch him off guard, she needed to be accurate, agile and _very_ fast. The timing was…

"Start!"

Now.

Immediately, she intensified the magnitude of the force behind her feet to the highest possible measure and _soared_. Her surroundings were nothing but a blur as she flashed past the finish line, skidding to a stop several feet away with some difficulty.

The recording machine beeped out, "2.89 seconds."

A collective gasp echoed throughout the class.

Even Iida seemed astonished at the fact that someone beat him in a race. Races were supposed to be his natural habitat.

As Haruka turned around, she noticed how Bakugo was looking at her more intently now with a different sort of gaze than the aggravated one he previously had. She smiled in her mind, " _Were you watching, Bakugo_?"

The rest of the class finished below her score, with Iida at a 3.04 and Bakugo at a 4.13. Haruka had wanted to use this opportunity to witness Deku's newly developed quirk, but sadly, it seemed that he hadn't used his quirk in the 50-meter dash, finishing with a 7.02.

The following test determined their grip strengths. Turning her head down, she observed the hand-held device in her hand contemplatively. When it came down to it, pressure was simply the amount of force applied per unit area. Thus, she could easily magnify the force vector her hand exerted on the device in all directions to succeed. Applying her quirk, she could feel the handle straining desperately under the force of her grip.

 _Beep_.

436 kg.

Hm. Haruka thought she could do better than that. After all, she had experience magnifying her grip strength to break people's necks before.

The next tests passed relatively quickly as she safely cleared the sandbox during the long-jump test and breezed through the side-step test by controlling the force vectors of her footsteps.

During each test, she attentively examined and memorized all of her classmates' quirks, identifying their varying strengths and weaknesses. It was a habit for her. She had a strong, ingrained dislike for being vulnerable and unaware of her surroundings, so Haruka made it a strict routine to constantly analyze the people around her.

The fifth test was the ball-throw test previously demonstrated by Bakugo.

When it came to her turn, she weighed the ball judiciously in her hand and speedily went through her calculations. Haruka estimated that the farthest she could throw was roughly 1500 meters. Assuming the softball was approximately 0.18kg in mass, she could use Newton's second law of motion along with the kinematic equations she had permanently etched into her mind to determine the amount of force needed to throw the ball 1500 meters.

With that, she stretched her arm out, clenched the ball and pitched with as much force needed, watching contently as the ball went through her predicted trajectory.

Aizawa-sensei turned around with her result, "1503.9 meters."

"Woah!" another blonde who she had seen with an electricity-based quirk whistled, "That's more than double the explosive kid's record."

But nothing topped Uraraka, of course, who touched the ball and easily sent it flying up, up and away, eventually being given the score of infinity.

Perhaps what was most interesting, though, was when Deku stepped up for ball-throw test.

"It doesn't look good for Midoriya if he continues like this," Iida commented as Deku stood at the center point. Up until now, he hadn't used his quirk at all, finishing all his tests with relatively average results.

"Obviously not," Bakugo snorted from beside Iida, "After all, he's nothing but a quirkless small fry."

"Bakugo, you don't know?" Haruka popped up from behind him, "Deku told me he has a quirk."

"Hah?"

She tilted her head in thought. Surely, that was strange. As far as she knew, Bakugo and Deku still lived in her old neighborhood together, so they probably went to the same middle school as well. How come Bakugo didn't know Deku had already developed his quirk?

Re-directing her stare at Deku's hesitating form, she wondered to herself. Did he hide his quirk from Bakugo? But how? And _why_ would he…?

" _What are you hiding, Deku…_ "

Her classmates around her waited eagerly for Deku to throw the ball, but as he swung his arm and let the ball go, he noticeably hadn't used his quirk _again_. He himself looked shaken and bewildered.

"I erased your quirk," everyone's attention shifted to Aizawa-sensei, who was now approaching the poor confused boy on the field.

"You erased my quirk…?"

And then Deku gasped.

"Those goggles…! You can erase other people's quirks just by looking at them. You're the Erasure Hero – Eraser-Head!"

All at once, Haruka felt the hair on her skin rise sharply.

"I've heard of him," someone said from nearby, "He's an underground hero."

That's right. Haruka, too, has heard of him. In fact, she's heard _many_ things about him.

The name "Eraser-Head" was well accustomed within the underground crime community, one that was often uttered in fear or caution. Hitmen, intermediaries and crime organizations alike all knew of the pro-hero capable of erasing any quirk, operating mostly outside media attention and highly familiar with the criminal underworld. He was merciless, calculating and extremely capable.

Who would've thought that, of all people, _he_ would be her homeroom teacher.

" _Calm down…_ " she urged herself, feeling the phantom trembles in her body, " _He's never seen you before and he doesn't know who you are_."

"From what I can tell, you can't control your quirk, can you?" Eraser-Head glared down at Deku, "Do you intend to become incapacitated again and have someone save you?"

"Th-That's not my intention—"

"Whatever your intention is, I'm saying that's what those around you will be forced to do."

The boy trembled in Eraser-Head's grip.

"Midoriya Izuku. With your power, you can't become a hero."

Haruka watched silently as the pro-hero hounded the boy. Truly, she felt bad for him. She once knew what it was like to desperately aspire to become a hero and with the way Aizawa-sensei crushed her poor friend with his words, she couldn't help the sympathy rising in her chest.

Well, she supposed, U.A. wasn't the top hero academy for nothing. If it wasn't rigorous and difficult, how else would they produce top heroes?

Even among heroes, the weak were cast aside.

Aizawa-sensei finally let him go, "I've returned your quirk. You have two turns left for the ball-throw. Hurry up and get it over with."

Deku trudged back to the center, wavering for a moment. And then, to everyone's absolute surprise, he threw an extremely powerful pitch, thrusting the ball forward with a strength that blew winds around them.

"705.3 meters," the device read.

" _A strength-augmenting quirk_ ," Haruka determined, " _That's a remarkable quirk to develop, especially with the current display of strength_."

"I can still move!" he declared to their teacher, clenching his fist in victory.

He sure had grown a lot, she pondered to herself. From his quirk to the way he challenged Aizawa-sensei, Deku was far from the pushover he had once been in Bakugo's old posse of neighborhood children.

Curiously, Haruka peeked at Bakugo, who was a few steps to her right. Upon seeing his constipated and utterly shocked expression, she had to smother a laugh. So, he really _was_ unaware of Deku's quirk.

Uh oh, it looked like he's going to explode.

"What's the meaning of this…" Bakugo snarled, and then before Haruka could move to stop him, he raced forward, reaching for Deku with explosions in hand, "Tell me what's going on, Deku, you fucking bastard!"

A moment of panic fluttered through her mind. Were her two childhood friends, the only people she really knew at U.A., going to destroy each other on the first day?

But Aizawa-sensei moved quickly, and before Bakugo could reach the smaller boy, numerous thick strings of cloth wrapped around his body, trapping him from any movement.

"They're capture weapons made of carbon fiber woven together with metal wire from a special alloy," Eraser-Head explained with a cautionary tone, "Don't keep making me use my quirk over and over again…"

"…I have dry eye."

While the entire class was comically surprised at this sudden reveal, Haruka quietly pocketed this information for contingency purposes.

Just in case she ever encountered the pro-hero in the future, under a different name and a different appearance, she at least would have information on his limitations. The fact that Eraser-Head had dry eye obviously meant that he wasn't able to erase quirks for extended periods of time. In other words, when engaged in a fight with him, stamina was key.

" _That's no good, Aizawa-sensei…_ " she tightened her stare thoughtfully, " _Even among your students, you shouldn't carelessly reveal your vulnerabilities like that_."

With those thoughts in mind, the remaining tests passed without much fanfare. Like with any other fitness examination, the students completed sit-ups, seated toe-touches and a long-distance run.

When it came time for the results to be revealed, Haruka searched patiently for her name on the screen while also evaluating her classmates' rankings.

 _1\. Haruka Haiiro_

 _2\. Yaoyorozu Momo_

 _3\. Todoroki Shouto_

 _4\. Bakugo Katsuki_

And at the very end…

 _20\. Midoriya Izuku_

Yikes.

"By the way, I was lying about the expulsion."

The sadistic teacher grinned, "It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks."

" _Called it_ ," Haruka mentally shook her head.

"Of course that was a lie," Yaoyorozu remarked with her hand on her hip, directing her words at the petrified Deku beside her, "It should've been obvious if you just thought it through."

As Haruka unconsciously stared at the familiar face, Yaoyorozu caught her gaze and smiled, stepping towards her. A bright pink blush bloomed on Haruka's cheeks. Why is it that she kept on getting caught staring at people?

"Hey, Haruka, right?" the taller girl exuded a welcoming aura, "Well done on the quirk assessment tests."

"Says you," she replied with a small, nervous smile.

" _Socialize, Haruka_ ," a silent reminder to herself.

"You were amazing out there, Yaoyorozu. It was very innovative of you to create devices that could boost your performance in each test."

"Thank you. You seem very adept at precisely controlling your quirk, both now and during the entrance exam. You must have had a lot of practice, right?"

"Practice?" Haruka paused and then nodded slowly, "I suppose you could say that, yeah."

"Well, we're done here," Aizawa-sensei's uninterested tone interrupted the girls' conversation, "There are handouts with the curriculum and such in the classroom, so when you get back, read over them."

And with that, the teacher left.

After Haruka finished changing back into the regular uniform, she gathered up her things and made her way out the campus. As she stood at the U.A. entrance, the young girl searched around, hoping to see any familiar faces she could walk to the station with.

Perhaps in her old school she had appeared to be distant and unapproachable, but in reality, she _did_ want friends. It was just harder for her than others to mingle with people. Her joyless childhood meant that she spent most of her youth trapped in an abusive home, unable to experience the social developments and relationship-building that most other kids enjoyed. Of course, the sole exception to that was the friends she had secretly made a long time ago – Bakugo and Deku.

Luckily enough, at the corner of her eye, she spotted a grouchy stance and a shock of blonde hair.

Haruka walked eagerly towards the boy and then fell into pace next to him, "Hey, Bakugo. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Bitter red eyes flashed towards her before he grunted out a quick, "The hell do you want?"

"I was just thinking that it'd be really nice if we could catch up a little. Maybe with Deku too and—"

"Fuck off, Polka-dots," Bakugo shoved past her with his shoulder.

Haruka stumbled with a slight "Oof," but quickly stepped back up to him, unaffected and unfazed.

"Then maybe we could walk to the station together? I was hoping—"

This time, he snapped at her. "I _said_ fuck off. We're not friends."

She wilted slightly.

"Oh… okay," in spite of it all, she still smiled at him with the irritating, infinitely patient expression that Bakugo remembered her for as children, "Next time it is then."

Deciding that he had enough annoyances today, he chose to ignore her and continued walking forward, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from blowing up again.

For a while, Haruka stood there, staring earnestly at the back of the figure she used to only see in her memories. He really hadn't changed much.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she settled for walking home alone again, which was completely fine with her. The world around her dulled for a bit as she took in the silence that marked the end of her first day at U.A. Her quiet contemplation was interrupted, however, when her phone buzzed with a new message.

Pulling the device out of her pocket, she recognized the unknown number almost immediately. It felt like déjà vu – receiving cryptic texts and calls while on the U.A. campus.

The dreaded job details had finally arrived. The one she had spent weeks tensely anticipating to receive.

"New job assignment," the text read.

The young teen sighed.

It seemed that she had work to do.


End file.
